


100% Turkish Cotton

by ShadyCarson



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Deadpool Thought Boxes, Deadpool being Deadpool, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Peter Parker, Spideypool - Freeform, Wade Wilson Deserves Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27757228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyCarson/pseuds/ShadyCarson
Summary: He just wants Wade to take care of himself! Is that too much to ask?!Apparently not...
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 249





	100% Turkish Cotton

Peter hasn't been in Wade’s apartment for over a month.

The last time he was here, it was after a bad fight where a group of thug’s got the drop on him and he ended up with a concussion. He barely even remembers Wade dragging him along the streets since he had been too disorientated to swing home. Strong arms, the smell of gunpowder, and straight up Wade being the only thing his scrambled brain could focus on at the time. So when he awoke late the next day with a headache in an apartment that looked like it had been condemned, it had been a rude awakening to say the least. 

The bedroom was trashed. Literally, there had been trash everywhere! Not a single spot on the floor was free of an assortment of garbage and weapons. The walls were a putrid yellow color with rusty brown splotches that made Peter stare too hard before staring too hard, and then instantly regretting the move. Peter remembers stumbling to the bathroom, barley giving a second thought to the oversized shirt he was wearing over his briefs, mind too preoccupied with his full bladder.  
But the state the bathroom had been in almost overrode his need to pee. Thinking it worth the ticket he would get for urinating in public if he could just avoid touching anything in that dump masquerading as a bathroom.

But now, here he stands in that very room, with the softest towel he has ever felt clutched in his hands. It's plush. Fluffy, and he wants to shove his face into it, just to see how it would feel.  
The towel is dark, matching the others hanging from the wrack above the toilet. Hell, it even matches the toilet seat cover and bath mat. Which also had not been there last time Peter was here. 

The sink is clean. The. Sink. Is. Clean. 

This sink! This sink was a color of brown the Peter didn't even know existed the last time he was here. It had been like the sewer itself backed up into it and never left, even when the bowl itself was dry. That's not even discussing the state of the toilet or shower. Peter found out the hard way that the toilet itself was broken, and nearly threw up when seeing the bits and pieces of bloody… who knows what! that had been at the bottom of the tub.

Now, there is a shower curtain that doesn't look like its 90% mildew. There are products in the shower caddy hanging from the nozzle. Peter notes that most of them have labels for sensitive skin. Peter can’t help the small smile that touches his lips when he spots the assortment of bath bombs in a basket on the back of the toilet. Wade would be that guy. All muscles, murder, and motor mouth, but who likes to relax in the tub after a long day. 

Putting the towel back on the rack, Peter goes into the brightly lit hallway, unable to help peeking in the bedroom. The bed looked slept in, even though Wade had been gone for about 3 weeks. The merc was supposed to be back any minute, set to meet Peter before they went out for patrol. Peter had offered to just go it alone, give the other man time to relax when he got back but Wade insisted. They had met at Wade’s place before, usually on the roof, but Wade promised to make Peter the best damn sandwich he had ever had and told the younger man to just let himself inside. 

Peter was so unprepared for all… this!

If there weren't so many signs that Wade lived here, Peter would have thought he walked into someone else’s apartment. But it was easy to spot everything that made Wade, Wade… once he got over the shock of seeing how nice everything looked. 

When he first came inside, using the key Wade hid for him, he paused. The fact that the apartment didn't smell was the first thing he noticed. The second being that he could actually see the couch and the side table. He could see these things fully, which was a shock considering before it was just the vague illusion of furniture under all the crap.  
But, even in what felt like new surroundings, Peter could see the Spiderman and Deadpool plushies he got the merc for Christmas on the shelf next to the tv. It also wasn't hard to spot some of the more obvious hiding spots Wade had chosen for his weaponry. And that was just the things that the scarred man had tried to hide. There were still plenty of weapons in plain sight. Various knives in the dartboard on the back of the front door, a shotgun hung up on the wall, an obscenely large black bag with various pointy objects sticking out of it propped up in the corner. There was a decorative glass bowl on the table… it was full of grenades. 

Peter stopped in the middle of the living room, taking it all in while he thought about the man himself. Wade had always been unpredictable, the younger man knew that. He was never expecting anything like this. 

But… maybe he should have… he did kind of read the merc the riot act when he was here last... He actually- kinda yelled at the other man. His head had hurt so bad, and the experience in the bathroom didn't make it any better. So to have come out of the bedroom to see Wade in the kitchen, shirtless, mask less, and pulling a hot pan out of the oven with his bare hands had been the last straw. 

-

“What the fuck Wade?!”

Spinning sharply, the older man turned to meet Peter’s angry eyes. Dropping the burning sheet pan onto the stove top, just missing the handle of a pot that was boiling. Coming around the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, Wade stretched out his hands, obvious burns on both palms.  
“Goood morning, baby boy! Or.. really afternoon, but hey, who is counting? Welcome to Casa de Wilson! I’m making cookies!”  
Starting to turn away from the younger man, Peter stopped Wade from going back to the oven by launching himself across the space. Grabbing a scarred arm, Peter jerks the merc back around to meet this angry gaze.  
“Wade, what the hell?! Why are you burning yourself?” 

Blinking slowly, Wade looked down at Peter’s hand wrapped around his forearm before looking up to meet brown eyes. 

“Because… cookies? I’m making cookies. Didn't I just say that?” Wade pulls back and is silent for a moment, before answering himself “Yeah, I know. Cookies are great. And yes, you're right, he is touching us which is odd... Not that I’m not enjoying it,” turning his head back to Peter “ but really Web’s you don't want to be touching that. Not a great feeling, what with the whole skin like a shriveled up piece of leather thing.” Peter feels Wade try to pull away, but having his own super strength keeps the other man's arm firm in his grasp. 

“Why. aren't. you. using anything to protect your hands?” Peter emphasizes, making sure he has the other man's attention as he lightly shakes the arm he is holding. “Your normal gloves would be better than nothing at all!”

“Uh… because I couldn't find the oven mitts, and there really wasn't a point? Ya know, what with the whole “healing factor” thing.” Not even the burning in his hands or Peter’s strong grip could stop the merc from physically making the air quotes himself. It only makes Peter more upset. Snatching a towel from underneath a stack of newspapers and trash, Peter gives it a critical eye, before deeming it clean enough to apply to the bleeding blisters already forming on the merc's right palm. Wade barely flinches as the scratchy fabric meets his skin. 

Beyond irritated, the younger man let out a huff, “Just because you heal doesn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself! Healing factor or not, there is no reason to fucking live like this!”

“Like what?” Wade inquires with a tilt of his head, looking around the apartment like he could find what Peter was talking about, but not even seeming to see the problem. 

“Like your life doesn't matter!” Peter whips the towel away in his frustration, accidentally dragging its scratchy surface against Wade's bare arm, leaving it red and irritated. Wade doesn't react, making Peter even more upset. 

Unable to stop himself, Peter gestures to the immediate space around him, then out of the kitchen. “Your place is a mess! I don't know what the fuck is growing, or maybe dying, in your shower! Your toilet is broken and has been for who knows how long. There isn't a light in the fucking hallway, which makes it a death trap with all the explosive shit you have lying around! Who the fuck thinks its ok to just grab burning pans when you know you have oven mitts somewhere?!”

Wade doesn't say anything, no funny quip, no defense. He just watches with wide blue eyes as Peter’s face twists further and further into distress.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Peter yells with one last poke, bringing his hands to his hips, not wanting to touch anything else less it gives him some sort of disease.  
Wade takes a few moments to answer. Looking from Peter to the rest of his apartment before letting out a quiet “... a lot.”

Peter immediately feels bad, noticing how loud he got and how much Wade had sunk in on himself. Stepping closer and bending down slightly to catch the other man's eyes, Peters gives a small smile. Bringing his hands up to lightly grab Wade’s, running feather light fingers over the newly healed skin.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don't like to see you not taking care of yourself ok? I-I know it's hard, with how much everything hurts like, all the time. But I just don't like seeing you not giving a damn about how you live...” Blue eyes stare into him, making Peter feel like he might have let too much of himself go. Dropping the merc’s hands, Peter wraps his arms around himself, worried that his feelings for the older man may be written all over his face. 

“Just… try ok?” 

Face burning, Peter turns away. Now acutely aware that he has no pants on and that Wade’s oversized shirt is slipping down one of his shoulders. Finding the clearest spot on the loveseat, Peter curls into a ball. Facing the TV that he didn't even realize had been on this whole time, Peter hears Wade moving around in the kitchen. Refusing to turn and see if Wade bothered to move the cookie pan safely, Peter stares at the TV. Taking more than a few moments to realize the show playing was obviously some sort of soap opera and was also in Spanish.

Feeling more than seeing the merc approach, Peter did his best not to move as the other man sat down on the couch. He could feel the others heat, the couch only being big enough for two people and Wade clearly counting as at least one and a half. Heavy muscles shift around into a comfortable position and Peter swears that his face is going to burst into flames if it gets any redder.  
The tension only lasts a few more moments before a chocolate chip cookie enters his line of sight, pinched between scarred fingers. “Cookie?”  
And it’s like the ice breaks and the whole incident never happened. Wade spends the rest of the night translating the show they're watching, because of course the merc knows near perfect Spanish. 

-

Wade cleaned... Wade washed… Wade enjoyed soothing baths with bath bombs... Wade bought fluffy 100% Turkish Cotton towels because his skin was irritated all the time. Peter wants to kiss him.

His Spidey-sense goes off before Peter hears the keys in the front door and the happy whistling of the mercenary on the other side, but he can't seem to move. A strong push from gloved hands sends the door flying open as Wade walks in, instantly spotting the other man and letting out an excited greeting “Heya, baby boy! Hungry? Cause I’m fucking starving!”

Dropping his duffle bag from over his shoulder, Wade kicks the door closed behind him before striding towards the kitchen, all while Peter stares after him. Wade is talking animatedly about the job in California he just came back from as he pulls items out of the fridge. Peter can see clearly the makings of two large sandwiches being put together on pristine countertops. Gleaming white plates coming out of the overhead cabinet and waiting right next to them.

Wade is efficient in his assembly and keeping up his rambling. Never once missing a beat, even when he has to stop and seemingly talk to himself. None of it out of the ordinary as Peter was well acquainted with Wade’s need to talk and the presence of White and Yellow in the merc’s head. Wade has his mask pulled up over his nose as he grabs little pieces of cold cuts and eats them while he plates their food. Giving Peter a good view of his strong jaw line and thin lips. He wants to kiss those lips. 

Peter is so enamored that he misses the first few beats of silence from the kitchen. Focusing in on the lack of noise, Peter meets the others eyes. He can see the older man staring at him from over the counter. Concern clear across his mostly masked face, lips slightly downturned.

“You ok, Petey?”

Peter finally feels like he can move, feet no longer feeling like lead. With slow strides he takes the few steps into the connected kitchen. Running his finger across the clean counter top as he gets closer to Wade. Unable to help looking around the kitchen and seeing that the grime around the oven is gone, and the handle on the fridge fixed. There are oven mitts with little RPG’s on them hanging from a hook on the fridge... OVEN MITTS!

Wade turns away from the food. Staring almost unblinking at the web slinger as he waits for whatever is about to happen. Peter isn't surprised that Wade can tell something is up. Even with Peter's uncharacteristic silence, the tension in the air is tangible. This is exactly where they were the last time Peter was here.

Peter gets in close to the mercenary, feels the other man’s muscles tense with the proximity. Reaching up slowly, giving Wade plenty of time to move if he wanted, Peter moves to cradle the others face. Letting his thumbs lightly trace against Wade’s cheek, Peter entirely misses the way the white eyes of the other man's mask widen as his own close. Too busy bringing the taller man down to meet lips with him. 

It’s different, the texture of the scars unlike anything Peter has touched his lips too. But that doesn't change how he feels and how much he wants this. Nothing stops the brunette from pushing his lips against them and enjoying the sweetest kiss he has had in a long time. It takes Wade a few beats to get with the program, body staying tense until he realizes that Peter isn't pulling away. A gloved hand wraps lighting around Peter’s left wrist, a comforting weight. Kissing Wade, here and now, is everything Peter hoped it would be. And then so much more when he feels scarred lips press back, returning his kiss with light tentative touches.  
Peter eventually pulls away, but only enough to let his forehead rest on Wade’s as he lets out a shuddering breath. Wade is staring at him in shock, but making no move to pull away or let go of Peter’s wrist. 

Whispering, Wade asks “Did I die and no one told me?’

Peter can’t help the surely unattractive snort he lets out as he laughs. Letting the fingers of his right hand drag against Wade’s square jaw before dropping to loop behind strong shoulders. Peter can’t help the dopey smile that spreads across his face as he pulls the taller man into a hug.

“Welcome home, Wade.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just really really like the idea of Peter wanting good things for Wade, and Wade doing good things for himself.  
> I also just loved the whole concept of, skin so painful it had a part in driving Deadpool to the insane loveable Merc we know today... I never said I wasn't messed up lol
> 
> Enjoy! Comments are life, Kudos are love! Mistakes are my own because I ain't got no beta!


End file.
